


Get Familiar

by UnholyPlumpPrincess



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Asphyxiation, It's just a lot of plot and then Revenant jacking it yall, Masturbation, Other, Past bdsm relationship, Revenant Headcanons (Apex Legends), Revenant has a cock attachment (Apex Legends), Simulacrum headcanons (Apex Legends), Solo, Wire Play, choking mentions, mentions of violence and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyPlumpPrincess/pseuds/UnholyPlumpPrincess
Summary: Revenant set in before the games, during the Hammond Robotics slaughter (after Forge’s death) with him trying to find answers as well as finding himself dealing with his new injury causing memories he doesn’t remember to course through him. And of course, trying to familiarize himself with new feelings for his body.He jacks it, is what I’m getting at.OrIn which I write about some hints of my Revenant headcanons, him slaughtering some people, and getting jiggy with his robot erection whilst thinking of past lovers fucking him up.
Relationships: Revenant (Apex Legends)/His Hand (Apex Legends)
Kudos: 59





	Get Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna see more of my junk look me up on tumblr @sinningplumpprincess

Blood.

Fury.

The slick material slid through the joints in Revenant’s hands as easy as oil might. Hands he had thought had always been metal, hands that had sliced throats just as easy and could transform into blades. Hands, programmed for destruction, and as far as he knew, had always been.

A flicker. Glimmer. Blonde straight hair, high and tight- no- Now black, curly, with dark brown eyes staring back where amber optics should have been- no. Now a buzzcut with pale white skin, sharp features-

A loud scream echoes through his body, causing his voice box to ripple and vibrate towards the end until the glass before him shatters and he snarls under his breath. His shoulders slump, his body following as his hands pull up to his face and the tip of his finger traces the edges of the line connected to the corners of his mouth over his jaw. He could unhinge it into a terrible maw, full of metal, sharp points and a silicone tongue.

His optics flick over the broken glass as another face fazes into existence. Dark brown flesh, long dreadlocks, golden eyes bright and wide staring at himself in horror as he rips his head away to look away. 

His programming had been compromised due to the glass that had shoved through his cords acting as nerve endings. It could make him see in waves, waves of a life- lives? Anything that he had lived in  a... human body.

The symbols that had once rested on the backs of his hands in neat little ‘H’s were now scratched out. It wasn’t like he could feel the pain of a knife scraping the metal off until the shape didn’t make sense anymore; But the pain of the emotions raging through him? 

Those. Those were real.

A snarl bubbles in his throat as his optics flicker back to the glass to a new face.

They built him to be a monster. Who’s he to argue with programming?

\--

Hammond Robotics stays on high alert and issues out warnings and encouragements for facility members to proceed on with their work. Employees go missing, gone for days on end and everyone inside is on edge, yet the big bosses keep them going. A mistake, Revenant thinks, but perhaps it’s to keep him away from anyone more important.

He does his research on who is more important. Scientists and engineers are targeted, but more people on the lower scale he ignores. He finds the program name for what he might be- a simulacrum. It starts to piece itself together after that, the rage he’d felt before now beginning to make more sense, and the mindless obedience to something- or someone, he could not see.

The throat in his hands cracks satisfyingly with a beg dying on the person’s lips.

The rage he feels bubbling in his body like a near erupting volcano, isn’t a new thing. But the pain? The pain is all so new. So even when he gets his answers, even when he finds a familiar satisfaction in the slide of blood between his joints and ridges, why...

Why can’t he get rid of this sense of longing?

A useless feeling, in his opinion, as was anything else that wasn’t on task. And that task was rather simple, he thought. Destroy, demolish, get answers, spill blood.

It’s why he’s found two scientists. A couple, married. They would have answers, he was sure of it. One of their family’s names had explicitly worked on him centuries ago for a military purpose. He found the answers of that in a file. But the memories of a war on another planet, feeling nothing and caring for nothing except completing a mission, were something that stayed in his own memory bank. It didn’t matter how many people around him died, just that they weren’t wearing the same uniform ‘his side’ was on. Didn’t even matter HOW he killed them.

A monster, programmed right into him.

He could laugh.

But instead, he doesn’t. He’s quiet now, the blue light illuminating the living room he’s slinking in. It’s a large area, could classify as a mini house if it wasn’t in a compound. The blue light comes from an area with different blueprints and components on a table, resembling robotic body parts and sketched out formulas to match the engineering level quality to create such pieces.

A sneer finds its way onto his face.

The living room is passed by towards a hallway where framed pictures rest. The couple on their wedding day, graduation days, even a prom. They’d obviously been together a long time, but one makes him stop. Just a simple image of them both, with their arms thrown around each other and foreheads together, big smiles stretched across their faces.

A flicker, a memory, something- someone etches into his own body. Of a smile, of his heart beating a little louder- and actually beating at that. Of the butterflies in his belly, someone- or people- was  it multiple people? Faceless, as always, looking at him with adoration. Their sounds, their voice all a blur and melded into a thousand voices at once. As if trying to whisper a name, stretch out to him, beg, plead, moan, cry-

It’s dizzying when he finally can feel himself slammed back into his own body. For a moment, Revenant’s optics flicker back over the image, as if hoping it would spur something like that on again. Just a taste of something positive-

No. No he couldn’t.

His optics drop to the side, flickering to the floor and trying to remind himself of who he was now. What he was even doing here. He needed answers, not kindness. He needed answers about who and what he was, but not like this. Not like the noises he heard in his head, or the l. ..the lo...

The  **_ love  _ ** he had felt.

He ignores it. The waiting game started now as he waited for one, or the other to arrive so he could begin his questioning and paint their walls bloody.

Something he hadn’t factored in would be the couple returning as a couple. Both of them walk into their dark home, removing their white coats and talking about the lockdown on staff. Concerned for their own lives before one takes the others hand in both of theirs and reassures that no one would come for them.

He almost blows his cover with a laugh. He could have, truly, what pitiful little things humans were.

What a pitiful little thing  _ he  _ probably had been.

Skinsuits were temporary, something he would make known by the time he finally scales back down the wall and slams one of them into a wall with a sickening crack of their nose hitting the flat surface. The other he had tied up not too long ago, in a place away from where they would see their coupled partner perish under his very hands.

Was it from sympathy? Of knowing they would be heartbroken to see their lover be harmed? Or was it merely to shut them up?

The questions Revenant snarls in the scientist’s face are of himself. Who had he been? Where had he come from? Had they known that he was a product of war? That he had been created by the very same hands that his person now possessed? Where was the simulacrum program now?

The answers are sobbed out, bloodied lips and the knowledge of death hanging in the air. They knew they would die, even if they gave up the information. Willing or not.

There’s almost sympathy in his mind. But when he lays their lifeless, bloodied bodies together and their hands seem to hold the others, he blames the pang in his chest as merely disgust.

\--

A home no longer a home was an empty house. Revenant never found himself wanting for things, especially materialistic items, but he searches for answers, files, anything. The work station illuminated by the blue light he’d seen prior is something he finds himself coming to, pulling out drawers and files to find anything of himself. However, no name stirs anything in him that he thumbs through. His database analyzes each name, finding faces to them with ‘deceased’ or locations splayed across the screen. Nothing helpful.

Revenant snarls under his breath, going for the drawers that should have only contained items and tools to work on simulacrum attachments, but he finds himself rather...face to face with something more interesting.

Attachments of different...things. Things he wouldn’t have expected he’d be compatible with, let alone would find here. Revenant supposes, as he turns the phallus shaped objects within his hands, that the engineer had really specialized in upgrading these models. These others that were like him.

Others that could feel more human things such as pleasures.

Revenant nearly turns it over, nearly puts it back right where he found it, but he finds himself scanning further for usage of how it worked. Where would it go? How did it work for a body like his? Where wiring was the only thing keeping him together?

The answers lie in a user manual. Attachments for MRVN units went hand in hand for simulacrums due to their upgrading systems being similar. It speaks of instructions on how to attach it, whether to a sex working MRVN unit or a more willing, more coherent unit or simulacrum.

Truly, Revenant should be ashamed of his interest, but the thoughts from earlier? Of the crying voice, begging, pleading, hissing, hair pulling, hands- far too many hands-

You really can’t blame him when he takes it, and the manual with him.

His stalk to their bedroom could be seen as morbid when he finds himself perched upon it. A bed was far more comfortable than the streets for exploration, and even he’d admit that it was comfortable with all of its familiar  warmth of blankets and far too many pillows.

Humans, he muses, were suckers for comfort.

Revenant finds himself admiring the attachment in his hands. It was hot pink, black silicone nearing the base in almost a ribbed-like texture. The head was bulbous, the slit partially open to allow any lubrication reserves to spill from the body it was worn to. Another object he glances at, the relatively large tube that  apparently, he could stick somewhere near his hip and it should click into place with all his wiring...

The click should have made him embarrassed when he finds the right placement, but instead Revenant starts to find himself feeling more at home in his own body. More...himself. Sure, the attachment doesn’t match him whatsoever, but even that’s easy to attach with the hook of a wire and settling it in the right place.

The sensation isn’t bad, but it’s a lot.

A sigh he does not need exhales from his lips as his hand comes up, exploring the wiring at the side of his neck under his cowl, gently tracing the tip of his finger over the thicker one where a jugular might be. A familiar sensation of a creeping shudder rolling up his spine like a shock wave, the slow roll of thunder as his other hand slides down to his hip area upon feeling the jerk of his cock.

Cock. His.

If he had blood in his body, perhaps his face would be red from how sensitive he was. Instead, Revenant tries to treat this like a mission with a bit of a grumble to his own mutterings. Sliding the hand that had been fussing with his wires to wrap around his throat, pressing his thumb between the two thicker wires and stimulating air loss to make his hips buck up briefly.

Revenant can picture a beautiful face above him, warm, soft fingers wrapped around his throat. A voice crooning praise and, “ **_ A few more seconds, baby, you can take it. You look so beautiful so red _ ** **. ** ” In his head like a faint echo of a memory. And instead of getting upset or frustrated, he finds his voice box  betraying his interest with a shuddering vibrato of a groan.

The cock- his cock, jerks once more, spilling a drop of lubrication- no. Pre-cum, warm and wet and oh he can feel it. He’s so sensitive, able to feel how it trails down the underside of his cock where it feels all too warm and unfamiliar yet so familiar.

Motor motions, memories keep him going. His fingers run up to his face, grabbing his own jaw a bit too rough and force two fingers into his own mouth. Saliva is stimulated from similar lubrication reserves, making it easy to press down on his tongue to cause more to pool and threatening his own fingers with his deathly sharp, metal teeth.

His other hand now, finally, wraps around his pretty hot pink cock. It’s almost too much with the suddenness of it, of how long it had been.

At some point in his body, there’s a warning of overheating that he doesn’t listen to.

Revenant’s hand works fast and shaky over his over sensitive cock, squeezing the head and finding his optics flickering in and out as his memories seem to come and go as they please. Each time they come, he makes a low groan in his throat, and each time they go he about whines. A whine could only be stimulated in a low, deep, shuddering sound like a high whistle from his already shaky voice box.

“ **_ Pathetic, _ ** ” The person he can feel and see in his mind- or memories- coos to him like it’s a sweet thing to say rather than a degrading term. “ **_ Look at you, so needy, do you ever say thank you? Or please? Is that too much to ask for? _ ** ” The voice croons, and Revenant finds his hand sliding back down to his throat, followed by his hand quickening on his cock.

“ Than \-- thank you- thank  youthankyou -” Revenant finds his own voice mimicking to no one. Breathing out heavy without a need for breath, near about panting as his hips come up to fuck his own fist. His hand flies down from his throat to catch the sheets as a snarl rips through his throat like a starved, wild animal.

His orgasm hits him far too hard. Overloading his systems to new, dangerous levels as his cum comes out clear and spurts all over himself. His hips tremble, over sensitive yet too stubborn to stop touching himself. Revenant keeps tugging, hellbent on getting the glimpses of that beautiful person telling him what to do-

A weak orgasm shakes him right after, dry and not as satisfying as he finds himself immobilized and almost dizzy from the harsh sensation of pleasure.

There’s a calm after the storm, always. Even for someone like him. It takes all of five minutes for his body to stop threatening his heating levels, steam popping from his inner shoulder areas to cool down his circuits and joints. Revenant finds himself slowly flickering back into existence, optics lazily rolling to the side to look at the nearby screen that must have belonged to one of the slaughtered scientist’s flash of a new email.

‘Apex Games data entry’ it’s labelled.

Revenant grunts, rolling onto his side, back facing the screen and feeling more at peace than he had in years.

Apex games, huh?

He’d have to look into that.


End file.
